Go
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. He closed his eyes and let the breeze warm the ache in his bones.


Title: Go

Summary: He closed his eyes and let the breeze warm the chill in his bones.

Characters: John & Teyla

Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan

Rating: K

"I... I should go."

And yet his body did not move; his feet betrayed his mind's desire to leave; his hands won the battle against his rationale and touched her arm; he felt something inside of him wither as another part blossomed into life and spread almost as far as the outskirts of his heart. His eyes turned back to the horizon for a moment, losing another piece of himself to her. It had been something that had happened slowly and in small amounts that it had neither frightened nor startled him when the words had eventually tumbled out, even if there had been no one there to hear them. But seeing her there, beside him on a desolate section of pier, separated from the rest of the city highlighted just how wrong, how absurd their relationship had become.

She no longer sought him out and he no longer wanted her to. It hurt too much, knowing that she would leave and return to her husband and their child. It hurt because he never wanted her to leave; he wanted her to be with him, to stay with him... to love him. He was selfish and he was petty – he knew this but he'd tried the whole 'love and let love' approach and it hadn't really worked out so well for him. No matter how they rationalised their night spent together, it meant something to them – to _him _-; something more than friendship, something that he couldn't explain because when he tried to, whenever he tried to rationalise it now, his heart taunted him and he was pretty sure that if it was at all possible, the muscle would have pointed at him and laughed until tears spouted from its' eyes.

The warm breeze whipped her hair into his face and he brushed it away, resisting the urge to tuck it behind her ear. His jacket bustled in the breeze but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. His eyes found hers once more and he saw something there; something akin to what he knew must be in his. A longing, so deep and wonderful that it ached all the way down to his belly; an understanding that _this _was all they had and he felt his mind trampling all over his heart, stomping it into the ground, jumping with glee at its triumph. It hurt. It _really _hurt. He'd thought he could do it; thought he'd be able to survive her but he'd been wrong. She'd lynched him the day she'd pursed her lips at him and told him he did not look through her and, for a moment, he was glad.

He didn't exactly regret falling for Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan but he could find no joy in it now. Every time he looked upon her six month old child, whose hair was too dark to be in sync with hers and eyes that were too green to be Kanan's, something inside of him pulled, something sharp and unnameable and irrepressible; the city whispered in his ears that he should look and see and know but he couldn't.

He didn't want to.

Because if he did, then he'd have to admit that the past two years had been a lie, that the basis of their friendship was a lie because there was no way that her child was his, there was no way she wouldn't have told him. There was no way he wouldn't have asked. And yet, a part of him knew. Had always known and he didn't like it. Whenever he'd looked upon her swollen belly, he'd had the indomitable urge to touch her, to calm her, to let her know that she was there. Whenever they'd been together, the city had been at peace as though knowing its' child was safe and loved and wanted.

He hated his new found connection with the city.

He wondered if the Ancients' had had that problem too.

"It does not mean you must leave for Earth."

He lowered his lids and felt the wind steal the air around him as he tried to suck in a calming breath. He licked his lips and looked across the horizon, to the sight that had awed him for nigh on six years. The sight that had calmed him, assured him, let him weep and he was saddened by the thought that he would never see it again, that in a few weeks time he'd glance upon the azure rays gracing the mirror like surface for the last time.

It had been hard, excruciatingly hard; the decision to leave Atlantis behind. But it was for the best. Not only for him but for the expedition. Ever since he'd been held captive by Neanderthal cannibals a year ago, he'd never really been the same. His leg ached when he walked on it for too long, his shoulder throbbed in pain from holding his weapon high for countless hours and his heart – well, he didn't really want to think about that. Plus, he was getting old. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. And there was no place for him in Atlantis; there was already a military leader that was doing a far better job than John would ever be able to do. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

Carter had been surprised, to say the least and had called upon General O'Neill – who'd embarked on a two week journey aboard the Daedalus, though John held no allusions as to the real reason why - to try and make John reconsider but his months of thought and arguments had won and he'd been granted leave from Atlantis. Carter'd even offered him a post as a civilian consult but he'd declined. It wasn't his post he was getting away from; it was the City itself.

Ever since Grae had been born, the city had not left him alone. He felt like he was in a really bad Sci-Fi movie, where an inanimate object spoke to him through his mind – it was either that or he was really going crazy. Rodney and Carter and Keller and Halcyon had poked and prodded at him since the day the city had responded to John's whimsical – okay, _erratic _emotions six months ago but none had come up with conclusive evidence to prove the link that John seemed to have with the city.

He didn't know how he knew that it was real – he just _did._

There was something about the city that welcomed him home whenever he stepped through the 'Gate and he didn't know how he'd survive without that feeling – Atlantis was the only place he'd ever felt was home. And now more so than ever.

"We have not spoken in some time, John and now that we do, you find you have nothing to say." John raised a cynical eyebrow to the horizon. Oh, there were plenty of things he had to say but not plenty of things he could say. So he said nothing. "Then I will leave you to your solitude." She didn't touch him before she walked away, and his fingers didn't itch for her. His eyes turned to watch her retreating form but his feet did not follow. She didn't turn back and he didn't watch for long.

He sighed when he felt her entrance into the warm corridor and closed his eyes, letting the wind warm the chill that ached in his bones.

The city descended upon him, urging him in, pulling him in her footsteps. He resisted.

Sometimes, rationale told him, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.


End file.
